The second time Alice arrived at Davenport Manor, she wasn’t nervous. She was stunned, almost into numbness. After the absolute shocker of an interview where she’d come across as a bumbling buffoon, she’d been convinced she was out of the running for the role. After all, who would employ someone to do such a pressurised, important job if they couldn’t handle a simple interview?

And yet, they’d taken her on. She was so surprised she’d actually thought she was asleep and dreaming the whole thing when she received the phone call. But after a pinch hard enough to make her yelp and leave a bruise, she came to her senses. And rejoiced. She’d done it. Alice was temporary property manager of Davenport Manor. She’d be working alongside Erin for a couple of weeks, but then the place was hers. Sort of. As far as she was concerned, baby Clarke couldn’t arrive soon enough.

Alice walked through the front entrance, beaming as she realised it would be the last time she did that. After today, she’d arrive earlier—today she’d been required to turn up at ten, as the doors opened to the public, giving Erin time to brief the staff beforehand—and use the side door that all the other staff members and volunteers did.

Thankfully, Erin was waiting inside the entrance hall for her. She’d doubted she’d be able to find Davenport’s office again, but she didn’t want to come across as stupid by having to ask, so Erin’s presence was a lifesaver.

The older woman smiled as she caught sight of her, and waddled forward with her hand stuck out. “Hi, Alice.” They shook hands, then parted.

“Morning, Erin. How you doing?” She nodded at the other woman’s belly.

“Oh, you know,” Erin replied, spreading her hands across the stretched expanse of skin and stroking it through her loose dress, “Okay. Not brilliant. Ready to have him or her out, so I can feel like myself again. But then I guess that won’t happen for a while either, because I’ll be suffering sleepless nights, sore and leaky nipples… you know the drill.”

Alice’s cheeks flamed. “Oh—oh! I didn’t mean… that is, I’m not implying—”

Davenport held up a hand. “I know what you meant, Miss Brown. Your enthusiasm for this role is unquestionable. But Erin and I have some questions, if that’s quite all right with you?”

She nodded again, and before she had chance to think up a suitable response, a knock came at the door. Their refreshments had arrived. By the time the member of staff had passed the drinks out to the three of them, then carried her tray back out of the room, Alice’s heart was in her shoes. She’d fucked this up, royally. First she’d raved like a lunatic, then she’d made a stupid comment about aristocratic families going broke. Talk about insulting the boss. Potential boss. Well, ex-potential boss.

Erin hadn’t said a word beyond her greeting, and yet Alice was convinced that the older woman also thought she was a lost cause. She was so screwed, it was all she could do not to put her head in her hands and rock back and forth like the crazy person her interviewers clearly thought she was. It was the job opportunity of a lifetime, and she’d blown her chance.

It didn’t matter what her answers were to any of the questions. Pigs would fly before they gave her the damn job.

What a prize idiot she was.

Alice nodded frantically. “Yes, no—no, you’re not mistaken. My parents always called me a history buff. When I was younger, I liked things and places with a history, and as I got older it grew into a particular passion for old houses and their grounds. Now all I want to do is take an historical property, make it shine—figuratively, of course—and get as many members of the public in as possible and show it off. People need to see these places, or they’re missing out on a vital part of British history.”

She looked, wide-eyed, at Davenport to watch his reaction to her outburst. She couldn’t help it—she genuinely was being interviewed for the job of a lifetime that could make her career, and she needed Davenport to know how badly she wanted it, and how determined she was to succeed. She thought she saw a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, then he covered his mouth with his hand for a moment and cleared his throat.

“Yes, Miss Brown,” he said, assessing her with a sober expression, “it’s obvious how much you want this role, but you have to remember that this property isn’t just history. I still live here, and I’m in the present.”

The response was on the tip of her tongue. “And that’s what makes this place so fascinating! Its history goes back hundreds of years, and by now things have often gone wrong—families dying out or losing all their money, and the properties end up going derelict, being made into private hotels, or get taken over by The National Trust. But you’re still here. Davenport Manor has a past, a present, and a future, and they’re all connected.”

“Quite,” Davenport said, dryly. There was no sign of a smirk on his face this time. “But I haven’t lost the family money yet.”

It was only when she became aware that Jeremy and Erin were looking at her strangely she realised she hadn’t responded to his last comment. For fuck’s sake! The man was melting her brain. Normally she was the epitome of professionalism and a very desirable potential employee, but something about Jeremy Davenport was making her crazy. If she didn’t pull herself together, they’d think she was some kind of useless ditz and she’d have absolutely no chance of getting the position—the step up she so badly needed to become a full-time, permanent property manager somewhere after she’d completed her contract at Davenport Manor.

“Yes, understood,” she forced out, trying hard to shove her wayward thoughts somewhere where they couldn’t distract her and make her look like a total fool in front of these people. “If I’m lucky enough to be chosen, I’d definitely make the most of the time with Erin. And I’m a fast learner. Plus I’ve been researching this type of role, so I know quite a bit about what’s involved, anyway.”

Now she was babbling. And sounding like she was showing off. Bugger. She needed to hit the right balance of knowledgeable without coming across as a know-it-all.

“Yes…” Davenport looked down at the pieces of paper in front of him. “It says here that this is the type of role you’ve been aiming at throughout your education and subsequent employment. You’re very enthusiastic in your covering letter. And, unless I’m much mistaken, this is genuine enthusiasm, as opposed to the gushing missives people often send when they just want a job, any old job.”

Davenport nodded, then asked Erin what she wanted before picking up the telephone on his desk and calling through their requirements. He thanked whoever was on the line before putting the receiver down.

“Okay,” he said, sliding a manila folder from the edge of the desk to the space in front of him. He opened it and spread some of the contents out so he could see them all at once. “Let’s get started, shall we? As you know, the role is a nine-month contract to cover Erin’s maternity leave. So the successful candidate will be taking on of all her responsibilities, but we’ve deliberately timed the appointment of the temporary staff member to cross over with Erin’s time off, so they will have a couple of weeks working alongside her, in order to learn the ropes. And of course, when Erin goes to have her baby, they’ll always have me around to answer any questions.”

He smiled, and Alice’s heart rate increased. God, but the man was arresting. And it was more than just being easy on the eye. He had a way about him, a charisma, that made her want to listen to him talk all day. He could recite the telephone book and she’d probably still find it interesting. Or perhaps it was just his sexy accent that was doing funny things to her. Either way, she wished that Erin wasn’t in the room so she could crawl into Jeremy’s lap and beg him to do naughty things to her.

Alice could scarcely believe her own salacious thoughts. When did she become a sex addict? Oh yes, that would be when she’d walked into the room and laid eyes on Jeremy Davenport for the first time. Damn it, what was he doing to her? Up until now, she’d gone without sex for so long that she’d forgotten what it was like—and didn’t really miss it. Now, what she wanted most in the world was to get this job so she could work alongside the delectable Mr Davenport for nine months. And get into his bed. Maybe.

Jeremy sat behind a desk, with a heavily pregnant woman sitting beside it. Alice barely noticed the woman. All she saw was him. A man with cropped dark brown hair, hazel/green eyes, a jawline you could cut bread with, and lips that looked capable of doing incredibly wicked, sexual things to a woman. Or a man. Alice had no idea what his sexuality was, but she found herself hoping he liked women.

She chastised herself. Even if he did like women, he wouldn’t go for someone like her. A Plain Jane, with mousy brown shoulder-length hair, blue eyes, average height and above average weight. Alice had always known she’d never be a supermodel, so she’d worked extra hard academically, and here she was. About to be interviewed for her dream job.

The sinful lips she’d been so admiring twisted into a grin, and Davenport stood and made his way around the desk with his hand held out. She pushed her inappropriate thoughts to the back of her mind and made herself focus on the present, and the two people in the room that she had to try her best to impress. Her smile was still in place, and it widened as she took the hand that was offered to her, and shook it.

“Jeremy Davenport,” he said, the posh accent even more obvious now. He indicated the pregnant woman, and said, “This is Erin Clarke, our property manager, who’s due to go on maternity leave very soon.” He let out a small laugh. “But I guess you’ve already worked that one out for yourself.”

“Alice Brown. Thank you so much for seeing me.” She nodded politely, then moved over to the woman, who was awkwardly attempting to manoeuvre herself out of her chair. “No, no, don’t get up,” Alice said, holding out her hand. The other woman sank back down with a sigh of relief, and gave Alice a wry grin.

“Sorry, I’m not so light on my feet as I once was.” She took Alice’s hand and shook it, then dropped her hand to her swollen belly. “It’s lovely to meet you, Alice.”

“Likewise.”

Davenport indicated the chair that had been placed in front of the desk. “Please, sit. Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee, hot chocolate, juice, water?”

She thought how strange it was to be offered such a variety of beverages. Usually it was tea or coffee, and that was pretty much it. It pissed Alice off no end because she didn’t like either of them, and she usually felt like a nuisance for asking for something else. She decided to make the most of it.

“Um, juice would be great, thanks.” She crossed her fingers it wasn’t grapefruit. Anything but bloody grapefruit. Horrible stuff.